Unspoken
by The Prickly Pear
Summary: A look into the relationship between G Callen and Henrietta Lange. Now a series of One-Shots.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**__** Just a little One-Shot I wrote to try and get my muse up and running again. Please, as always, let me know what you think!**_

**_Happy Reading!_**

* * *

As a child Henrietta Lang had always been somewhat different from the other girls. While the dreams of most of her friends had been comprised of loving husbands and many well-behaved children Hetty had dreamed of a life in which we was free to do as she liked. She was a thrill seeker, even before she could ride a bicycle she was trying to go faster, lunching her little metal tricycle with her on it down the steepest hill she could find. The result had been less than stellar but the feeling had never left her, that feeling of absolute freedom as the wind blew in her ears. As she grew so too did her aspirations and dreams, no longer did she simply want freedom in her own life, she wanted control. A woman in charge, what a sight that would be.

She was in charge now, and comfortably so. She had friends in the White House, the secretary of the Navy was on her speed dial, and the director of NCIS called her personally with agency problems. The little girl who'd once climbed the tallest tree in her neighbourhood just to prove to her sisters she could do it was now one of the most influential people in the American Navy. But such things always come with a price and for Hetty that price was her lack of a family. True it had rarely bothered her over the years, her career was her life after all and she liked it that way, but every now and then she would take a step back and wonder, what if?

Now was one of those times. The email sat open and shimmering before her, its generic and politically correct invitation to a family reunion opening the door for doubts about her choice of lifestyle to creep in. Embedded into the email was a photograph of her eldest sister and her husband surrounded by their three children and those children's families. Hetty – despite dreading walking in alone, that strange, short aunt who could not even talk about her career – replied yes all the same. There was no point starting some sort of family feud over a simple reunion after all. Besides that she had not seen any of her sisters in many years, catching up would be well and good, she supposed, even if it was going to be lonely.

When she thought about it she was slightly surprised to realize it had actually been more than ten years since she'd last seen any member of her family, not since her mother's funeral in 1996 at least. She had never been particularly close with any of her family, siblings, parents or otherwise. Always being the black sheep of the group had caused them to drift apart and led to her departure from the family home almost as soon as she turned 18. And yet here they were, contacting her, inviting her to their gathering. Hetty sighed and closed her laptop with a snap.

* * *

Evening was her favourite time of day. It was then that the OSP headquarters emptied out and she was left alone in the beautiful old building with only a handful of people to keep the silence from pressing in on her. Settled at her desk and surrounded by her own style of decoration Hetty was attempting to salvage a perfectly good shirt which Agent Hanna had allowed some "bad guy" to bleed on. With a spray bottle in hand she worked away at the fabric in the dimming light, so focused on her task that she failed to notice the approaching footsteps until there came a knock at the open doorframe.

Looking up at last she was greeted by the sight of her lead agent gazing at her from the doorway. "Mr Callen," she greeted, gesturing for him to enter, "What can I do for you?"

Callen entered her office and took a seat opposite her. His face held a calculating look which told Hetty to expect a conversation in which he would be looking for some form of answers. Setting aside the spray bottle and shirt she stood and poured two glasses of tea, handing one to the man before her, who accepted it with a nod of thanks, before taking her seat once more and sipping her own tea slowly.

Callen remained silent a moment longer, gazing thoughtfully at the teacup now in his hands. "Something bothering you Hetty?" he asked finally, looking up and making no attempt to hide the fact that he was studying her reaction, "You've just seemed a little off today. I mean, you didn't even get on Sam's back about that bloodstain. You never let me get away with that, or is it just that you like him better?" The final bit was added with his trademarked smirk and a slight tilt of the head.

Hetty kept her professional mask in place as she sipped at her tea and considered her agent's remarks. Trust Callen to notice when she was having an off day, of course ever since she had attempted to resign following Dom's death she knew he had been keeping an eye on her. Theirs was an odd relationship, odd yet in her mind, perfect. She could not help but feel that if she had ever had a child they would have turned out something like the man sitting before her, but hopefully with a far better idea of what it meant to be loved.

Their relationship was unspoken which was part of what made it so wonderful and helped prevent it from interfering with their work. Many a night when Callen turned in on the couch at headquarters she would stop on her way out to cover him with a blanket while he slept, tucking him in like a boy. When she would come in to work the next morning he would be nowhere to be found, out for a morning jog or some such thing, but sitting on her desk and carefully folded would be the blanket. They never said a word about it. They never had to.

She looked over at the man, still sitting in silence and waiting patiently for an answer he knew would come and couldn't help but smile slightly. "It's nothing, Mr Callen, a simple family matter, that's all."

"What kind of family matter?" Callen asked with a smirk.

Hetty sighed. "A reunion," she replied, "A gathering at which we are each given the opportunity to judge one another and yet do it all with a smile and polite conversation." She hadn't meant to sound so cold about it but somehow describing the event as she actually saw it lifted a weight from her shoulders she had not even been aware she was carrying.

Callen did not look surprised by her description, how could he be with nothing to base it off of? Instead of arguing her point he simply drank the last of his tea and began spinning the cup slowly around on it's saucer with one finger. "If you hate the idea so much," he said after a few moments, breaking the silence which had enveloped them, "Then why are you going?"

Hetty frowned slightly as she pondered her answer, all the while taking Callen's cup and saucer away before he could break them and setting them next to her own. "Family is a complicated beast, Mr Callen," she said finally.

The agent across from her merely raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. "So I've heard."

* * *

The day of the reunion dawned bright and sunny though Hetty's sprits could not have been lower. She had, over the last few days, found Callen's question floating constantly around her head. "_If you hate the idea so much then why are you going?"_ Her answer had been truthful and completely so but she found herself wondering what exactly it meant. Complicated as the idea of family may be it did not oblige her to go. Yet the decision had already been made, the RSVP had already been sent and she didn't have it in her heart to stand her family up like that.

Therefore she spent the whole of her morning, while the team was out on assignment, rummaging through her wardrobe searching for something appropriate to wear. Nothing too flashy, of course, yet not too subdued either. Something which represented her position in life, independent and in control yet unremarkable and able to blend in. What she finally pulled out was a tailored suit, navy blue in colour and well fitted along with a pair of black shoes which she took back to her desk for a quick polish. She would be frowned upon, she knew, for not wearing more feminine attire but there was nothing new about that, she would only bow so low to please them.

The rest of the day was spent balancing the OSP's books and dealing with any other paperwork which had found its way on to her desk. In fact she kept herself so busy that she hardly noticed the passage of time and was only alerted to the fact that the day was in fact over when Nate shouted goodbye to her on his way out. Glancing around the building Hetty saw that it was all but empty and with a sigh she stood, gathered up her suit and made her way to the bathroom to change.

It was only when she left the bathroom, changed and groomed and ready for the evening ahead, that she noticed she was not truly alone. A sole figure sat in the bullpen, leaned back in a chair with his arms folded behind his head and his feet up on the desk in front of him.

"Mr Callen," said Hetty in surprise, "What in Heaven's..."

Callen grinned at her, swinging his feet back to the floor and standing up in one fluid movement. He was dressed as she had only seen undercover, in an expensive black suit complete with tie and polished dress shoes. His blond hair was slightly more spiky than usual and she could see he'd taken a shower after getting back from assignment. When she did not make any move to finish her sentence he moved forward and offered her his arm.

"I thought since everyone else at this reunion of yours would be showing off their family..." he let his voice trail off.

Hetty could not help but smile. She reached out and took his arm gently feeling as she did so a rush of happiness which made her smile all the more. Looking up at him she met his eyes and knew she did not have to say anything. Complicated it may be, but family was wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**__** Alright so I know this was just a one-shot but I watched the episode "Haunted" the other day and this idea just came to me begging to be written down. Well not really begging, but the idea was there and I was bored so I figured why not? I've never done a tag before, it could be fun. So, because I spat this little puppy out I have decided to turn this into a series of one-shots focusing on the relationship between Hetty and Callen. It will not be updated often, just whenever the mood strikes me and they'll probably be varying in style and length. This one here is a tag to the episode "Haunted" (in case you hadn't figured that out yet XP) so please enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think!**_

_**Happy Reading!**_

_**Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN IT. XD**_

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* * *

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Director Vance's presence was unsettling at best and it worried Callen almost as much as the varying states of grief being experienced by his coworkers. When the head of a federal agency showed up following the death of one of their own it could mean only a handful of things and all of them started with some suggestion of malpractice on the part of the team and ended with some form of punishment being doled out. Yet for some reason it was not the fear of discipline that was clawing at the back of his mind. No, the feeling was one he'd not had since years before, since a time when his life was not truly his own and he was being shuffled here and there to suit the fancy of whatever adult was currently in charge of his life.

He'd learned very early on how to tell when something was going to end, when the people currently in his life were planning to walk away and leave him alone once more. If he could see it coming then it didn't hurt so much, if he'd even allowed himself to care for them in the first place. It was the same nagging feeling which had entered his head as he and Jason walked home from school for the last time, the same inexplicable dread he'd woken with the morning of Mrs. Rostov's doctor's appointment, the sixth sense which had warned him each time his life was to be uprooted again and the sudden urge to change living shapes that he'd never been able to explain to anyone. And it was back.

Vance seemed to feel it too, or something similar. The worry creased his face only when he thought no one was watching and his anger towards Keshwar's escape seemed somewhat forced at times. But Callen said nothing about it all day, choosing instead to continue as though nothing was wrong. He worked and he searched and he saved a newly widowed woman from suffering her husband's fate yet part of his mind wasn't in it, the part that was still flashing the same dull warning over and over again: Brace yourself, time's up. Move on.

Moe was the catalyst and he knew it the moment he saw Sam's face soften in the teen's presence and the director paused to watch an interview which held no value to him. And the older man's worry came out then, under the pretence of checking in on the team, confirming without saying aloud what Callen had already known. But he'd hoped he was wrong and the knowledge that he wasn't stung more than he imagined it should so he allowed himself to answer to keep it from showing, spilled certainties that the glue holding the broken souls of OSP together would be fine, that everything would be different this time around. Neither man believed it for a second.

* * *

With his ears still ringing from an explosion that probably could have been avoided and the excuses of a woman willing to sell her integrity for cash still floating around his head Callen made his way almost absentmindedly to the sanctuary of the main office building. The nagging feeling had been dulled some by the excitement of the day but not even a missive ball of fire and rising plum of black smoke could drive it completely from his mind or stop it from returning in full force the moment Hetty's office came into view.

It was the boxes which caught his eye first, sitting ominously on her desk and half-filled with books and other assorted trinkets. Her entire life at NCIS being packed away and sealed up, forever. With no idea what else to do he made his way towards her, schooling his face into a look of confusion as he walked and preparing the voice he knew he would need in his head. Challenging her would only put her on the defensive right up front and he couldn't have that, not when what he needed was answers, reasons, anything he could use to change her mind.

"Spring cleaning?" he asked her as he entered the office, tuning his tone to that of casual good spirit.

She chuckled slightly but the sound held no humour, no genuine happiness. Like his tone it was there as a distraction. She didn't plan to tell him and that knowledge hurt. "Call it what you will, Mr. Callen."

He would call it lying, lying to him, lying about leaving. But he pushed those thoughts aside, they wouldn't help him now. He needed a new approach, playing dumb had not worked as he'd hoped but perhaps dumb and observant... He allowed his eyes to take in the boxes quickly, looking for something, anything, to give her true intention away. A small black book caught his attention and he picked it up, turning it over in his hands to assure himself of its identity before speaking. "This is your diary," he told her, allowing traces of his real confusion to show through.

"Certainly is," Hetty confirmed, pulling the book from his hands with only slightly more force than was necessary.

"You don't spring clean your diary." He knew the moment the words were out of his mouth that there was an undertone of anger which he had not intended to let through but the tiny woman's mind seemed elsewhere as she continued packing her boxes without a word. She still wouldn't tell him; him of all people! This wasn't Sam, or Kensi, or Nate, or Vance, this was him! But the silence stretched on. Deflating the anger which had swollen inside of him as quickly as possible and forcing the dumb yet observant mask back in place Callen pushed forward. "Are we moving?" he asked.

"No," she replied easily, continuing with her packing in a somewhat more determined way than before.

"Are you moving?" he prompted quickly, sensing the change in her posture but she went silent again. Forcing a look of dawning comprehension was not something he really felt up to at that moment but he gave it a shot and as Hetty wasn't actually looking at him he was fairly certain it did its job. "You didn't get fired, did you?"

"Certainly not," she said shortly.

He was actually pleased to hear the insulted edge to her voice as it told him the Hetty he'd come to know so well was still very much herself but he had no time to relish the tiny victory and continued with his act swiftly. "You're not, quitting?" The emotions in this question were real, however, unlike those before it. He allowed the hurt he was feeling to show along with the worry because they were getting close now and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep everything hidden for long. Not from Hetty at least.

She looked at him, finally, but did not meet his eyes. "Uh, resigning," she corrected, "It's different."

He'd known, he really had, but hearing it said aloud was something altogether different and an odd sort of cold passed over him. She really was leaving. And the anger surged back again. "Not from where I'm standing," he retorted coldly.

Hetty's reaction was not what he expected. His boss was not one to show unneeded emotion so seeing her slam her books angrily into a box was an unusual occurrence. "Oh Mr. Callen," she said sounding almost desperate, "I've been through a lot, decades of a lot, and at some point you realize there are remote islands you'd like to visit, novels to lose yourself to, culinary delights to fatten up on..." Her voice faltered and she fell silent, gazing at him as though willing him to understand.

But he didn't. Islands and novels and culinary delights... Were these really the kinds of things people would leave their family for? But he couldn't think about that now, it would only hurt him more. "Huh," he said coldly, "Never thought I'd hear you rationalize." He wasn't sure really what he felt so he did what he'd always done when emotions became an inconvenience and focused on one he could understand and that one only. This time it was anger. "If you feel the need to blame yourself for Dom's death, Hetty, you're gonna have to stand in line."

He was not the only one who was angry now, Hetty's eyes flashed slightly and she turned to him, glaring as she spoke. "You are gravely mistaken if you think I would let the death of one agent influence my occupational choices!" she told him sharply, emphasising the point with her hands.

"But you are!" said Callen angrily, _and you're leaving _me, he added silently, staring into her eyes. But he knew in that moment that she didn't see that. He'd thought she would see it, he thought she would understand, but... She did not hold his gaze but looked away again and he felt his heart sink even further. "And that's one of the things I love about you," he added softly, his voice taking on a desperate edge as he played his last and most desperate card.

Hetty stiffened noticeably and turned to stare at him once more. He could see the mask slipping slightly, see the shock in her eyes and knew that if it was ever going to work, now was the time to try. He took a step forward, lifting the diary out of its box once more and holding it out to her. But it was so much more than just a book in that moment, it was everything... "Don't do this..." he whispered.

She reached out slowly, her hand just brushing his as she took the book back, took everything back and left him feeling suddenly as empty as his hands. "I'm afraid, my decision is final, Mr. Callen," she said softly.

And her words caused him to turn and walk away so quickly that he never saw the tears on Hetty's cheeks.

* * *

The end of the case should have been a time of happiness for everyone involved but while Sam and Moe were reconnecting and Kensi was cooling off in the gym Callen found himself sitting in the bullpen, staring aimlessly towards Hetty's office. Everything about the scene was backwards. People didn't pack up their things and leave, they watched him pack up his things and sent him away. They always had. But that didn't change what he felt, it didn't stop the emptiness he'd felt every time he'd been forced to move and leave everything behind from returning. He shouldn't have let himself care. He had known better but he'd let it happen anyway, he'd let himself get close and now he was paying for it. Because no one ever stayed and like the pathetic little orphan he was he could do nothing about it.

Sighing heavily he turned his attention to the paperwork lying before him, wondering vaguely if whatever Operations Manager the director found to take over would be as strict about paperwork as Hetty, or if they would let him crash on the couch after a bad day... Like today. He'd be staying here tonight, he didn't think he could handle memories of the Rostovs and how he'd lost that family too, not on top of everything.

Fingering the corner of the form before him he found his eyes drawn to the government logo along the top... The government logo... And then it hit him. He wasn't some throwaway child anymore, he was a government agent, a grown man, who was in charge of his life. He stood then, a renewed energy about him as an idea came to him. Because he could do something about it this time, he could fight for what he care about, for the people he cared about, and he could make sure that this time he wouldn't be left behind.

He was honestly surprised by how easy it was. Vance had clearly given in to the idea of finding a replacement and more than that, he had always been very good at picking pockets. That thought actually made him smile slightly as he approached Hetty's desk for the second time that day, slipping into the mask of cocky happiness he would need for this to work. And it would work, because for once he was going to make it work.

"A toast?" he said calmly, holding out the glasses and bottle of whiskey he'd gathered from his boss's private stash, "To your, uh, pending retirement?"

Hetty looked mildly surprised, as though after their previous conversation she had not expected any kind of parting gift from her senior agent. "A symbolic libation," she said, recovering herself and smiling slightly, "So you're not mad at me?"

He was tempted, just for a moment, to tell her just how angry he really was, how much the prospect of being abandon once again hurt him, but he pushed those thoughts away. Cocky happiness, that was the play right now, and nothing else. "No," he said, tuning his voice to match the new persona as he set the glasses down on the desk and took a seat across from her, "Because I realized something, I'm actually jealous of you. I mean, you get to relax, sleep in late, have long lunches with your friends, play canasta until your fingers bleed..."

Hetty raised one finger threateningly and pointed it at him over her desk. "Now you're toying with me," she told him sternly, "Save your whiskey and your breath, Vance already has my letter of resignation."

Callen could not help the tiny look of pride that worked its way on to his face at the mention of the letter. How many other people would have had the nerve to pick it from the pocket of the agency's director after all? Swiftly he pulled the envelope from his back pocket, holding it out for her to see with a smirk. "You mean this one?" he asked in a tone he was sure would get on her nerves.

This time Hetty could not hide the look of surprise which overtook her face as she stared at him. "Where did you get that?" she demanded after a moment, "Did Vance give that to you?"

Disguising the urge to laugh by looking down at the letter thoughtfully, Callen put on a slight smile. "Well not exactly," he explained calmly, fingering the corner of the paper and discreetly glancing up to study his boss's reaction, "You know you can take the kid off the street but, uh..."

Hetty's jaw tighten in a way that told him she was fighting the urge to smile as she gestured for the letter to be returned to her and Callen felt some of the emptiness in his chest dissipate at the hopeful sign.

"Did I mention the canasta?" he prodded gently.

And finally he was rewarded as a small smile worked its way on to Hetty's face. It wasn't much, but through the slightly exasperated exterior he could see traces of relief, pure and simple, playing on her face. It was that relief which brought a smile to his face as well, the first genuine smile he'd given all day as a sort of warmth rose up inside him. Holding out the letter for her to take he stood and leaned forward to pour two glasses of whiskey, risking a glance at the tiny woman once more as he did so.

"Oh hell," Hetty sighed, a smirk overtaking her features, "Better make it a double."

And Callen obliged.


End file.
